ORIGIN

"A Spire?"

"Yes!" Vargas boomed, and then came a monstrously loud, hearty laugh. "A spy-er!" The emphasis was very much on the 'spi' half of the word, and he laughed again after the delivery.

"Excellent! How very good. Here, one more: what do you call a serpent battlemaster who has forgotten to put on his armor?"

Vargas sighed.

Here he was, trying to provide a bit of levity, and his spawn simply asked if he were sick.

"...S-naked," he answered, pronouncing it like 'naked' but with an 's,' and then he grunted. "That--yes, I am fine." He sighed again.

"Never mind. You made a beginning with Zoisite, I saw?" he remarked, still on his haunches. "It was... a little distraught at the way things went, I should think, but you will continue with it--yes? And try to actually bond rather than upsetting it, this time."

Despite the words, they didn't hold the tone of command. If anything it sounded almost paternal, a suggestion, a conversation. But Vargas did want to get some idea, at least, of where they were all at.

Vargas watched it... well, it spoke, but it was also staggering and stammering.

"I'll tell more jokes, if I have to," he said, and it sounded like a humorous half-threat. "I am not going to attack you. Stop, breathe. Take a breath. It is good that you are speaking, but... Try to tell me all of that again, but... With more..." He thought, and then gestured vaguely. "...Words."

He paused, eyeing it. "And take your time. We're in no rush."

And he wasn't, and nor did he any longer feel the urgency he'd once felt in dealing with the Orthoclase. He didn't expect it to suddenly recover, so if it didn't, well. Oh well. Status quo, these days. His demeanor, then, was almost idle.

Maybe that was really for the best.

Speech. And he was relieved, immensely so, though that good cheer still had not left him regardless.

It was... trying.

He nearly interrupted, to explain that he had given permission for the farming, but Orthoclase-Alpha knew. Had been told, in fact. And its further explanations--about the Forge having changed--only confirmed what he had suspected. That when the world around Alpha had shifted, it hadn't quite been able to keep up. That it was lost, and adrift.

He considered, briefly, trying to explain this to it. To explain that adaptability was important. To explain, again, the ways the Forge had changed, and why.

But... talking never went over well with the Orthoclase. It tuned out, broke off, couldn't listen; he'd learned that the very difficult way.

So instead, he kept to deliberately casual.

Shook his head, even. "Oh, no, you need not apologize. A bond is not built in a day, Orthoclase-Alpha, and I am well aware that for one like you--trained as a soldier--it must be difficult adapting to a Forge that is bent on creation rather than pure destruction." Even if the creations were for destruction.

...It was complicated.

"I did allow them to work the farm, yes. There's a few of the Forge that are doing so; we need food for those that do not eat meat, after all, and some of them prefer... nonviolent pursuits, I think." Vargas had no idea, in fact, how far that sentiment actually went with the Zoisite--no inkling whatsoever. But the general wish had been clear, from several of their creatures. "And that is fine, we have enough roles to fill without requiring combat." It was a bit strange, in retrospect, to think that some of these monstrous beasts shied from conflict, but... interesting, too.

"I do not wish to see it harmed, however--yes? Not physically, and not, if you can help it, in its... feelings. I won't force you to speak with it, of course. If you don't wish to, then do not, but I still think it would be... worth working on. Some creatures do better with bonds."

Like you, I suspect, he thought.

He paused, and fired Orthoclase-Alpha a glance of amusement. There was wry humor in his voice, perhaps to mask the seriousness beneath, as he offered a taste of honesty: "You know, I think I rather like the Zoisite? It is a kind creature, and a keen one--but strong, deep down, as well."

Anything with the clarity of mind to take a breath and truly explain its inner thoughts while wracked with emotional trauma-? Strong, in Vargas's book.

Won't harm it... again? Vargas thought, peering at the Orthoclase. He considered asking if it had hurt the Zoisite physically already, but after hesitation, decided not to. Zoisite hadn't said as much, and he himself had mentioned emotions. Perhaps Alpha was, for once, speaking in the abstract.

"Well, that is good!" he said, instead.

Of course, it'd broken off a sentence, there, and Vargas tilted his head just a tad. "Did you wish to finish that thought-?" he asked, and prompted, "You don't think you should-?" It was only curiosity, really, and he let it hang in the air a moment before continuing.

"I did not think it had run from you, no. It was still working the farm, repairing damage done, when I arrived; may I ask what made you flee from it?" The question was direct, yet not demanding.

Vargas had, perhaps ironically, learned to be a little less commanding purely in his interactions with the Zoisite: he felt a need to pull back, a little, around it. As though he feared frightening it. Because he didn't want to.

Somehow, this was now carrying over to the Orthoclase.